Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two)

by Claudia King

  Neya knew she might be leading her clan deeper into danger, getting them lost among the thorns or straying back into Miral's path, but she had no choice. She was the one at the head of the column.

  Forced to trust the only instincts she could hope to rely on, she allowed her paws to follow the incline of the ground beneath them, weaving through the prickly maze higher and higher, hoping the path would eventually lead them to the summit of the hill.

  A howl of alarm sounded behind her, reverberating through the mist like ripples on a still pond. The sounds of crashing undergrowth answered, growls and barks from half a dozen more wolves joining the first in anger. Unable to help herself, Netya turned and stared down the slope behind her, trying to pick out the others through the fog. She could no longer see the spot where she had left Adel, and only Hari, Selo, and Wren were visible following along behind her.

  Then a flash of light cut through the mist, fighting back the darkness as it flared brilliantly with violet and orange hues. It flickered and twitched like fire, but it was the colour of no flame Netya had ever seen before. The growls of anger broke and scattered, giving way to shrieks of fear as the fire spread, the violet dimming as dry brambles crackled and caught alight. What magic had Adel conjured that was capable of such things?

  The patter of paws approaching from the back of the column became louder, and a tang of smoke crept into Netya's nostrils. She tore her gaze away from the otherworldly flames, urgency spurring her forward as she mounted a steep tumble of rocks and hauled herself up, making one final dash up the side of the hill. There was no time to wait and ponder over what had happened.

  Emerging from the mist brought with it the delicious taste of fresh air, the smell of smoke dispersing as Netya saw the stars shining above her once more, the silhouettes of trees joining them a moment later. The thorns gave way to rocks and bushes, and the wooded area she had glimpsed from the edge of the basin reached out to greet them. She glanced to her left, in the direction Miral and his followers had been headed, but the undergrowth was so dense it was impossible to tell whether their captors had found their way out of the maze yet.

  One after another the rest of Adel's clan emerged from the mist, the sounds of their pursuers growing dimmer as Netya led them toward a faint glow of light she could make out between the trees.

  Relief washed over her as her nose picked up the distinct flavour of Caspian's scent, and a moment later he was running alongside her, giving his female a brief glance of reassurance. Had they escaped? Were Miral and his wolves still following them?

  Before she could dash headlong into whatever awaited them at the summit of the hill, Caspian reverted from the shape of his wolf and stumbled breathlessly against a nearby tree trunk, holding up a hand to halt them. He was scratched and bleeding from a few small cuts, but he did not seem to have been wounded.

  Netya and the others who were not burdened with carrying the brunt of their supplies followed suit, milling around anxiously as they glanced back in the direction they had come. The flames flickering in the mist were still just barely visible, dimming down as the damp air reclaimed them.

  "What did Adel do?" Netya said under her breath.

  Fern looked at her with bemusement in her eyes, caught somewhere between awe and confusion. "She conjured fire from the ground, like burning oil with the colours of a sunset sky. I have never seen anything like it."

  As Fern spoke the den mother caught up to them, tugging away a snarl of brambles that had caught in her clothing as she gestured for them to move on. "Nothing more than a trick," she panted. "A magic of my own making. Come, we must enter the gathering while we have the chance, then Miral will be forced to relinquish whatever hold he believes he has over us."

  As the group struck a brisk pace up the final stretch of the hill, all the while casting cautious glances behind them to make sure their pursuers were not following, Netya tried to gain a hold over her frayed thoughts and pull them back together. She needed time to take in what had happened, to reconcile with her wolf, to appreciate that she had not given in to fear when it threatened to steal away courage and reason. But once again, there was no time. Adel dusted her apprentice's cloak off briefly, then instructed her to help make Caspian presentable.

  "We have no time to prepare a grand entrance, but we must do what little we can," the den mother said. "Our presence will draw the focus of many eyes. For now, keep your tongues guarded and your actions respectful. And do not speak of Miral and his pack."

  Netya nodded obediently as she picked a handful of soft leaves to wipe away the blood from Caspian's cuts, trying to make her restless male hold still as he kept one wary eye on the path behind them.

  "I wish I could have brought you to your first gathering in kinder circumstances," he said.

  "Our circumstances are kinder than they were a short while ago. And my wolf listened. She brought me here safely."

  Caspian gave her a weary smile, and in that moment she glimpsed the strain of many hard months revealed in his expression. He seemed exhausted, but Netya had no time to think further on it before they mounted the clearing at the summit of the hill, and the rumble of an uncountable number of voices reached her ears.

  —12—

  The Gathering

  The fires of the great gathering painted the darkness the colour of autumn leaves. It reminded Netya of the summer celebration she had taken part in two years ago, but even the surreal grandeur of that night was nothing compared to what she beheld now. So many people occupied the enormous clearing that they seemed to move and swell as one, the fur of wolves intermingling with skin and clothing in a great expanse of life that took Netya's breath away. Khelt's pack had been large, but the gathering held enough people to dwarf its size at least five times over. The sound of voices was like the roar of a river, the smell of smoke and flesh so strong that it overwhelmed the soft earthy tones of the woodland.

  If this was but a portion of all the packs, then Netya could not fathom how any group of people could ever outnumber them. They seemed as many as the bees of a hive or the leaves of a tree.

  Adel strode ahead as they approached the gathering, holding herself tall with her fox pelt headdress crowning her flowing black hair. She cut the figure of an alpha, even if she was but a woman, and before long heads were turning in her direction as she approached.

  Following her mentor's lead, Netya hastily reached back to cover her own scalp with the hooded headdress of her white wolf, allowing the beast's features to crown her own and cast her face into shadow. The other seers around her were doing the same, leaving no question as to their status as they strode into the midst of the gathering.

  Those clustered around the smaller fires near the edge shrank back as Adel and her followers approached, cautious and fearful of the strange new arrivals. They whispered to one another under their breath, and Netya thought she heard words that belonged to neither her language nor that of the Moon People.

  Paying no heed to the inconvenience she caused, Adel allowed the crowd to stumble back and make a path for her. Her height, her dark hair, and her clothing all marked her as the den mother she was, and no one but an alpha was likely to challenge a woman who strode forward with such purpose. The gathering enveloped them, drawing Netya and her companions into its midst before closing back up again behind them. She clutched Caspian's hand anxiously, losing any sense of where they were headed as the press of bodies surrounded her.

  Adel, she heard the voices say. Khelt. Den mother. She tried to follow the threads of conversation being spoken around her, but the roar of noise made it impossible. They conversed in both the language of the Moon People and other tongues she did not recognise. Even a few of the Sun People's words reached her ears amidst the clamour.

  Adel seemed to be moving toward the centre of the gathering where several large bonfires burned higher than the rest, but before they could reach their destination they were interrupted by a bare-chested man with a head of shaggy dark hair pushing his wa
y boisterously through the crowd.

  "Sister!" he bellowed, a broad grin on his face as he waved a cooking spear above his head. "Oh, what a kind summer it is! Let me look at you, little sister, let me see how the years have changed your face."

  It took Netya a moment to realise to whom he was speaking, and her eyes widened as the man broke free of the crowd and hurried straight toward Adel.

  The den mother stopped, but she spoke not a word. Her brother faltered, his grin slipping as he came face to face with her.

  "You might welcome me with a smile, Adel," he said. "It has been long enough—"

  "Have you taken the title of alpha yet, Karel?" she replied coldly.

  He frowned. "No. Father still lives—"

  "Then do not dare presume you may approach a den mother so. Step out of my way."

  A glare crossed Karel's features. "So many years, and still this is how you greet your own kin?

  "You are not of my pack, nor of my kin." Adel raised her voice. "Run back and fetch your alpha if you would have words with me, or else step aside."

  The look of indignity refused to leave Karel's face, but already he was attracting glares and hushed words of reproach from those nearby. Brother to Adel or not, he was still addressing a senior female inappropriately. Rather than make a fool of himself, the dark-haired man stepped aside silently, a look of wounded pride on his face as his eyes followed his estranged sister.

  "Adel has a brother?" Netya whispered to Caspian.

  "A mother and father, too," he murmured back. "They are all likely to be present."

  She glanced in Karel's direction, but he was still glaring after his sister. Adel had always been such a powerful presence in the recent years of Netya's life, it seemed strange to think that she had once been a normal woman just like any other, with parents and siblings of her own. Caspian had told her the story of how the den mother and her family had last parted ways, but it was one thing to hear the tale and quite another to see it made real before her own eyes. It seemed that she was to learn many new things at the gathering.

  The ripple of their arrival spread through the crowd, and many new faces pushed their way to the forefront to watch as they walked by. Some gazed at Adel with apprehension, others with curiosity, and a few with what almost seemed like a sad fondness. Netya was thankful that her mentor drew the larger part of the gathering's attention, for it helped to muffle the growls of sun wolf and false daughter that followed in her wake after the noses of inquisitive wolves latched on to her unique scent.

  She kept her eyes focused ahead, hiding beneath the fur of her headdress and trying not to be reminded of the hostility she had felt the first time she walked among the Moon People. She was one of them now, and yet she was still half an outsider. She expected many of the wolves here had good reason to hate her kind. Perhaps her seer's garb would help to shield her from the brunt of it, but she could already hear indignity in the voices of those questioning why a girl of the Sun People was dressed in such a fashion. Had it been a mistake for Adel to bring her here?

  The gathering thinned as they approached its centre, where the cluster of men and women seemed to give way to those of greater status; hunters and seers who sat around their own cooking pits in private groups.

  "The alphas gather within the ring of fires up ahead," Caspian explained to her. "They often keep their most trusted warriors and advisors close by when they meet, but they will all have their own camps closer to the edges of the clearing. It is tradition for an alpha to announce himself here when he arrives."

  "And will they recognise Adel as an alpha?"

  Caspian gave a half shake of his head. "I suppose we shall soon see.

  The den mother held up a hand to halt her followers when they arrived at their destination, then walked alone between two of the great fires to approach the small group of people seated within. Even without their striking adornments and the powerful cut of their bodies, Netya would have suspected these people were alphas by the colour of their dark hair and the confidence with which they held themselves alone. If status was a crucial part of leadership, then each and every one of these men had ensured that his outward appearance reflected it.

  She cast her gaze over the group, sneaking lingering glances at them one at a time, wondering what kinds of leaders they were and how their packs might differ from her own. An old man whose eyes had almost disappeared within the wrinkles of his sagging brown skin squinted back at her from beneath the horned ram's skull crowning his head. The lobes of his ears drooped beneath the weight of the etched bone hoops that pierced them, and white hair hung to his waist like the wisps of a horse's tail. Another alpha seated at his side was naked save for the markings of red and orange paint that adorned his body, watching the others with dark, beady eyes possessed of a cunning that belied his savage outward appearance.

  Netya was used to the way the tanned complexion of the Moon People contrasted with her kind's own pale skin, but two of the men in front of her had bodies so dark they were almost the colour of rich mahogany, their appearance so strange to her eyes that she could not help but stare at them for several long moments in fascination. It was difficult to overhear the words that passed between them, but they seemed to converse in yet another language that Netya did not understand.

  Despite being unable to spot Khelt among the other alphas, one familiar face did stand out to her. The hunter she had met in the northlands, Orec, was seated beside a man Netya could only assume was his brother, Alpha Turec. She hoped they still recalled the assistance she had offered their wounded brethren.

  Most curious of all, however, was a bearded man with hair the colour of dark silver. He stood at the back of the gathering on his own, his deep brow furrowed as he stared at Adel, an unreadable expression on his face. Despite his age he was still fearsomely handsome, and something about him almost made Netya believe they had met before. It was not until he stepped forward and she made out the striking blue in his eyes that she realised she was staring at an older male version of her mentor. He was Adel's father. The man who had traded his daughter away to Khelt's pack as a peace offering.

  If Adel's shock at seeing him was even a fraction of what Netya felt, she betrayed no sign of it. She did not even appear to look at him as she stood before the assembly of alphas, waiting for them to acknowledge her.

  "You," the wrinkled old man said. "At last you see fit to attend the gathering alongside your alpha. Where is he?"

  "And who is he?" the painted alpha interjected, eyes darting up and down Adel's body. "And who are you?"

  "She is Den Mother Adel," one of the dark-skinned men answered in the tongue of the Moon People, before turning toward Netya's mentor and offering a respectful bow of his head. "We all know her name, even if the years have changed her face."

  A tense ripple ran through Adel's followers as another figure strode into the ring of bonfires from the opposite side, his dark braid of hair hanging over his shoulder, a look of subtle anger on his face. Miral was breathing heavily, clearly having made the final stretch of his own journey in a great hurry. He stared at Adel, ignoring the greetings of the other alphas, then his lips split with a ferocious laugh.

  "What is the woman doing here, in a place fit only for men? Find your alpha and bring him back in your stead. I would have words with Khelt."

  The others did not share in Miral's mirth, but neither did they reproach him for it. The old man looked to Adel expectantly, as if waiting for her explanation.

  "If Khelt was still my alpha," she said at last, "then I would not be standing here before you at our great gathering. My seers and I have split from his pack, and we come here now to stake a claim as our own clan."

  Miral's expression darkened. Netya could see his mind working, the quickness with which he made sense of the deception that had been played upon him, and the momentary flash of indignation that followed.

  "Khelt must have been greatly angered, or greatly foolish to allow such a thing to happen," Alpha
Turec said. "What caused this parting?"

  "That is between me and him," Adel replied. "Know only that I lead my own pack now, and that I intend to sit here alongside you when we make our agreements and disagreements in the days to come."

  A moment of silence followed.

  "You know it is not custom," the old man said.

  "I would not be the first woman to take the place of an alpha here."

  "One exception is enough in a generation," Miral said, then nodded to Netya and the others. "Are these few the only ones you count in your pack?"

  "No," Adel replied steadily. "Many more of my seers remain behind at our den. Khelt will attest to this when he arrives."

  The alphas looked to one another in silent debate. It seemed that no single man held the authority to make a decision on what should happen next. Netya held her breath, trying to avoid looking at Miral as he paced back and forth between the others. Adel's father had remained silent throughout the exchange, a steady hand brushing his beard as he watched impassively from the sidelines.

  "I see none of us wish to speak out on this," Turec said. "We must await the arrival of the other alphas, then make a decision. When all our voices have been heard, then we will decide whether there is a place for Den Mother Adel among us."

  "And whether or not the spirits ordain it," the old man said with a nod.

  Adel bowed her head respectfully. "That is all I ask. In the meantime, I trust my pack will be afforded the same respect as any other?"

  The old man nodded again. "For now, yes. Even those packs whose alphas are not yet worthy to sit alongside us have a place at the gathering. Make your camp wherever you please, and we shall send word to you of our decision once it has been made."